


Funny thing, Time Travel.

by hiddenbookshop



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, F/M, Love, Time Travel, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 15:35:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5791003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenbookshop/pseuds/hiddenbookshop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She knew now what could be expected if Tom Riddle made the dark transition into murderer, leader, and Dark Lord. It was up to her to stop it. She could only hope she had the strength.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Funny thing, Time Travel.

Hermione Granger leaned heavily on the tall, silver bearded man beside her. Her limbs were heavy and sore, bruises and wounds littered her skin. She was filthy, covered in rubble and blood, not all her own.

There was so much to do but knew she needed a hot bath and a restful sleep before she spoke to anyone about the events she had just been a part of. Neither of which, would help ease her mind. They wouldn’t help her unsee the blood of her fallen classmates, diluted in water and circling the drain. Nothing would erase the memory of the lifeless eyes of first years laying among the dead in her nightmares. 

_So much chaos, all because of one man. Well, one man and a countless number of dark witches and wizards more than willing to do his bidding._

"Hermione!" Feet pounded down the corridor and her breath caught in terror. 

 _No! Not now!_  She couldn't face this soft, young, version of him. The him that still held so much potential. The him that she had grown to admire in the last year stuck in this pre-war past. The him that she loved.It had only been an hour ago that she had fought against him. She wasn't ready to face him yet. She didn't know if she would ever be.

Hermione glanced up as a seventh year Tom Riddle skidded to a stop in front of her, robes billowing behind him and breath coming out in gasps, as if he had run all the way from the dungeons. His dark eyes were bright and still held the light of youth.

Funny thing, Time-Travel. Just at the beginning of her last year at Hogwarts, on the brink of war and ready to fight alongside The-Boy-Who-Lived, Hermione had been whisked away, far into the past and right into the arms of none other than the villain of her own time.

The following year was spent in the company of Tom Riddle. She was instructed to befriend him, to keep an eye out for any evil doings and to try and alter his views on Muggle-borns. Hermione hadn't expected to actually _enjoy_ Tom's company.

They held easy conversation and his intelligence rivaled hers. He was talented and had a sharp wit and never failed to charm her right out of her socks. Oddly enough, he had never once mentioned anything about her blood. Maybe her being here  _had_  changed something. Somewhere along the way she had fallen for the man. It was a rather idiotic thing to do, given the circumstances.

Hermione had hoped that she had somehow managed to alter the time lines enough, in the time she had been in the past, to prevent any of the soul splitting items Tom called horcruxes from being created. But, based on how her last few days had gone, Hermione knew that somewhere she had failed. She would have to try harder. She knew that Tom would always have a craving for dark magic, but she had hoped beyond hope that she could prevent the future that she had been born into.

Alas, their peaceful year together had ended three days ago, with a sharp pull of at her navel effectively flinging her into her rightful time. There she would battle alongside her peers, watch her best friends limp body drop to the floor in an unmoving heap, then be thrown into a dark room filled with cloaked figures in masks and be tortured at the hand of the man she had come to love - turned monster. Only to yet again, because the universe is cruel that way, be shoved into the past. She knew now what could be expected if Tom Riddle made the dark transition into murderer, leader, and Dark Lord. It was up to her to stop it. She could only hope she had the strength.

Young Tom's smile faltered as he took in her state of disarray. The bright smile fell completely when he reached out to touch her and she quickly recoiled from him, tucking herself further into Professor Dumbledore's side.

"Hermione?" Tom's brow furrowed, and his voice shook slightly, unsure and concerned. Again, he tried to reach out for her. Oh, how he wished to have her back in his arms. He had been left empty and aching at her disappearance.

Hermione flinched at the feel of his familiar, gentle touch grazing her cheek. Images flashing through her head of furious red eyes and a freezing hand wrapped round her throat. Tom winced and let his arm fall limply to his side.

"Hermione. What happened? Who hurt you?" The dark eyes that she had long missed, flared in anger at the thought her being injured. Hermione felt her knees start to tremble.

"Tell me." He ordered. A small whimper escaped her lips before she could stop it and she shut her eyes tight, preparing for a curse that never came. At her response, Tom let out a long breath.

"Forgive me for what I am about to do." He whispered. Hermione's eyes shot open in alarm.

"Mr. Riddle!" Dumbledore shouted, but it was too late.

"Legilimens."

Tom was inside her mind, sorting through her memories, watching her attend classes, laughing with a pair of boys, studying in the library.

He found flashes of darker events as well; at night in the Ministry, a nasty curse, talk of a brewing war, a whisper of a name that clamped mouths with fear.

Moments flew by him quickly. Hermione was trying to push him from her mind, but she was weak and he was much more powerful than he wanted her to know. He had found that it was better to always have the upper hand.

Tom watched through Hermione's eyes as they met. He felt her apprehension and horror in that memory. It caused a sharp pain in his gut, like someone had punched him. She had been afraid of him? What had he done to frighten her so? He soon had his answer.

Images hit him in such succession that it knocked his breath away. His witch had decided the only way to remove him from her head was to give him what he was after.

Hermione. Pinned to a stone floor, screaming as a raven-haired witch carved into the flesh of her arm.

Hermione. Standing back to back with a ginger haired boy, spells flying off her tongue.

Hermione. Watching a blonde classmate fall victim to a rabid werewolf.

Hermione. Sobbing as a boy with glasses was dropped to the ground with a thud.

Hermione. Biting her cheek with such might that her mouth filled with the metallic tinge of blood when the boy lay unmoving.

Hermione. Feeling disgusted at the red eyed man standing in front of her.

Hermione. Refusing to speak and trembling when the man's bony fingers brushed aside a lock of her hair.

Hermione. Fueled by hatred at this 'Dark Lord' and mourning the loss of so many.

Hermione being dragged to a damp chamber and thrown roughly to the cold floor.

Hermione. Wishing for death.

That memory, in particular, sucked him in like a pensive.

She lay limp and bleeding on the ground. The lights were dim, though she could see the circle of cloaks around her. Cold, spidery fingers sporting nails as sharp as talons crept up her skin. She shuttered. 

 _He's not the same man. He's not the same man. He's not the same man_. She repeated like a mantra. The man whispered to her.

"Join me, Hermione. You will never want for anything again. Join me and we will live in splendor. I will rule this world with you by my side. All you have to do is say the word."

The witch snarled at the snake like man.

"Never." She spat, "You've killed my friends. You've murdered my family. Never would I stand by you. I hope you rot!"

The curse hit her already weary body like a tidal wave. Her blood seemed heated to the point of boiling and her back arched with the force of the curse. She screamed, though it did nothing to relieve the pain. The sound of her cries did not waver the seemingly unfeeling man with his wand held lazily in his hand. When the pain stopped, the dark wizard bent to her ear.

"I will only ask once more. Join me or perish. The choice is yours, Hermione. I require only your answer."

"If those are my options, I choose death. Kill me and know that there is no one left alive that has ever loved you. No matter the number of followers you lead, you are alone. Rejoice in the feel of taking my life, Tom. I will greet death as an old friend while you hide from him like the coward you are."

Voldemort snarled at the witch and raised his wand to her chest. But the floor was bare before the Avada left his cracked lips, and Hermione stared at the ceiling of an office she had visited many times.

The memory ended as Tom fell back against the nearest wall. He was having trouble breathing, heaving in short frantic gasps of air.

Hermione had called that evil man by his name. The man that had tortured his witch, it had been him. He felt sick. Bile was rising in his throat and he dare not look in the direction where he knew Dumbledore stood holding most of the brown eyed witch's weight. He couldn't bear to think of the look in those eyes.

She knew that he had been dabbling farther into questionable magic, he didn't think she knew just how far. The dark arts called to him in a way he couldn't describe, but the pain that gathered in his chest at the future he had seen through her eyes made him question everything. Was he going too far? Obviously somewhere in the years to come he had. Taking lives to preserve his own? Starting wars to gain power and supremacy? It had never crossed his mind what he would need to do to reach his goals. But immortality at the cost of so much, including the woman he loved being nearly killed by his own hand? No. He wouldn't do it. He didn't want to live forever in a world where she didn't exist, in a world where his need for power would leave her dead. No.

He hadn't realized he had been muttering to himself until a small hand carefully slid her fingers across the ridges of his knuckles. Something she had picked up in their time together, it would usually help calm him immediately. Dumbledore had quietly stepped away and the hall was otherwise deserted. Swallowing thickly, he met her eyes. They were tired and burdened, red rimmed from tears of grief and of pain. He hated seeing her like this. He would do everything he could to keep her from the fate he had witnessed. A small broken smile curled up at the edge of Hermione's lips. He was muttering again.

"I don't want to become that man." Tom heard himself whisper. Hermione nodded and slowly laced her fingers through his.

"I won't let you."

 


End file.
